Scott of the Antarctic

The Ealing Studios production `Scott of the Antarctic' is a work of art and an inspiration to human achievement. The film depicts the polar explorers of the Second Scott Antarctic Expedition (1910-1913). They are portrayed first as pygmies against the terrible backdrop of the ice continent, then as dauntless giants within the enclosed spaces of their fragile tents as they await their certain death.

The mood of the film is High Victorian, although strictly speaking the setting is Late Edwardian. Edward Adrian Wilson, the artist, played by Harold Warrender, is the quintessential gentleman naturalist. As the film begins, Wilson is shown in the summery garden of his tranquil country homestead in England, meticulously creating a scientific illustration of a mounted bat. At the end, when Wilson is among the few remaining explorers who face frozen death in their wind-whipped tent, his spirit drifts away to his English home.

The Victorian faith in mechanisms is brought forth by close up shots of distance-measuring wheels that are attached to the backs of clumsy man-drawn sledges, and by the heroic but flawed powered tractors that break down in the awful cold.

The film invites the viewer to arrive at his or her own conclusions about the character of Captain Scott. The film makes no judgments - it merely portrays Scott through the superb acting of John Mills.

`Scott of the Antarctic' is a timeless film about eternal values: human endeavor, achievement and triumph.

There is a general feeling, already noted here, that this film whitewashes Scott and turns him into a heroic figure. This is not surprising when you consider that when it was being made survivors of the expedition and relatives of those who died (particularly Kathleen Scott) were still alive.

Nevertheless, the film does raise some questions about Scott's leadership and judgement: his desperation to be first at the Pole with inadequate planning and resources; his last-minute decision to take a fifth man to the Pole when supplies had been calculated for a four-man team; the fact that none of these questionable decisions are challenged by subordinates bound by Royal Navy discipline.

The scenes at the Pole are particularly telling. When the British reach the Norwegian camp it is Wilson who enters their tent, while Scott tells Bowers to "check the position". Wilson's look of disgust emphasises Scott's refusal to face hard reality at a critical moment.

So, yes, this is the story of a "national hero", but watch it with care and it is far from uncritical.

OK, we've heard a lot about the "real" history and the debate over whether Scott was a hero or a complete imbecile. Whatever the truth is and whatever revisionist or hagiography history is being peddled, "Scott Of The Antarctic" is a beautifully made film: One of the best looking early colour films which evokes a bye-gone era and is strangely compelling and haunting at the same time. The music by Vaughn-Williams, the greatest British classical composer of his time, is powerful and, again, haunting. In some scenes, they've recreated exactly some of the photos taken during the Scott expedition. The casting is spot on; look at the original photos and Millsy is uncannily like Scott, Kenneth More is Teddy Evans, Reginald Beckwith and James Robertson Justice do their real counterparts well and John Gregson, in one of his first film roles, captures Tom Crean perfectly (compare his performance with Paul McGann's Crean in "Shackleton", which was pretty good). Many film critics feel that "Scott of the Antarctic" was somewhat robbed at the 1949 Oscars.

There have recently been a lot of dramatised and documentary programmes on UK terrestrial and satellite TV on the pioneering polar explorers, erstwhile rivals and colleagues Scott & Shackleton so I was keen to view this British made dramatisation of the former's doomed 1912 expedition to the South Pole. I was not disappointed. It is obviously difficult to maintain cinematic excitement for the viewer of what is basically a long march (a similar problem as in "The Spirit of St Louis" and "The Old Man & the Sea"), but the true to life tragedy here proves compelling in the end. Jack Cardiff's colour photography is splendid and I was surprised to observe so few "process" shots for a film from the 1940s, given the scale of the task here. John Mills is excellent in the key role of Commander Scott but the supports are all excellent, many of them chosen for their physical similarity to their real life counterparts - Mills too bears a more than passing likeness of physiognomy to Scott. In the post - war climate, Britain obviously sought comfort and inspiration from past heroes as the country rebuilt itself in economic austerity and Scott must have been an ideal model for glorification. Regardless of sniping comments from historians about Scott's poor planning, the film quite rightly avoids judgements and asks the viewer to recognise and admire the human heroism of these gallant men. There is surely no more tragic sacrifice in all exploration than Oates' "I'm going outside, I may be gone some time" - exit and the movie captures this moment with the necessary pathos, later repeating the sensitivity as Scott and his last two colleagues expire with the so near and yet so far "11 miles" on their freezing lips. The Vaughan-Williams music is suitably sweeping and elegiac. One wonders why Hollywood ignored the film at the Academy Awards of 1948, certainly the acting, cinematography and music, to name but three, were worthy of recognition. I wonder if anyone would remake it in the modern era as we approach the centenary of the triumph and tragedy of Scott's expedition. Are you listening Peter Jackson...?

This was a terrific film. I first saw this movie in the summer in Atlanta when it was near 100 degrees and our air cond was not blowing very cold. Scenes in this film actually made me feel cold. I felt as though I had been on a journey to The South pole after this one. The final 45 minutes of this film are a gripping adventure, and does it without todays special effects.